


First Time(s)

by raijuthehyeju



Category: Orgulho e Paixão (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic Fluff, First Crush, First Times, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Morning Sex, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raijuthehyeju/pseuds/raijuthehyeju
Summary: Little moments, instances, and each boundary mutually crossed lead to new first times.Or, also: how the village gays learn to love- intimately AND physically.





	1. Sixth (yet first)

**Author's Note:**

> IT GETS HORNY IN THE LATTER CHAPTERS || @raijuTheHyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless merry christmas/feliz natal y'all

The first time they slept together had been in the car after the Masquerade.

It had been a strange, alien, unknown feeling, Otávio mused in those early morning moments; the sensation of being watched while in the last dregs of sleep, a careful hand petting the bare side of his shoulder… and as memories ebbed between the sleep that crusted his eyes, Otávio’s memory of that night grew stronger and more volatile. The bruise of a hickey on the side of his neck felt good, the Major decided, and he was happy to feel so small in the other’s embrace.  
And it was all history from there.

The second time had been while we was reading a novel on the couch to Luccino.

His mechanic, the poor man, had been imprisoned the latter half of the week to a rushed repair job, Luccino confined to his workshop until the late hours in the night to repair a car’s piston and was sore to the bone and unwilling to move once comfortable. Otávio had taken to reading a newly borrowed pamphlet to Luccino after their shared dinner, the Major feeling the other’s head loll in his careful embrace on the couch as he spoke in his gentle, yet determined voice. Once he realized the other was asleep after a half-hearted “Luccino?” went unanswered, he began to read in silence, his own eyelids growing heavy in the quiet stillness, mentally affirming that he’d be out for “just a quick catnap.”

An hour later, Otávio awoke to a light blush on his cheeks and a wriggling smile under his mustache, grinning wildly at just how perfectly the mechanic formed to his chest and the crook of where Otávio’s chest and shoulder met. It took both men a good five minutes to finally get up from the couch as neither really wanted to be the first to leave (as Otávio’s comfort against the couch’s armrest and Luccino’s cracking of weary bones confirmed). Traded “sorry’s” for making the other’s leg fall asleep were exchanged and a mutual lingering was held near and dear, but it was the feeling of closeness and the sensation of Otávio’s hand rifling through Luccino’s hair that sealed the deal of how beautiful the simple act of sleeping together was.

 

The sixth time had been in his bed. 

Times three, four, and five had been all on the couch again- afternoon naps after readings and fencing lessons had become commonplace over the past week and a half as Luccino came home dead tired (and Otávio wanted to finish his book). The ways they had awoken, of course, fluctuated- everything from gentle pecks on the cheek, to brushes of the hair, to perhaps-a-bit-more-enthusiastic-makeouts than either were truly used to or expecting… it was all a practice of closeness the two were understanding, getting to know one another both intimately and physically. Each time, those boundaries were pushed a little further, those comfort zones were exacerbated to new levels, and those evening departures from their shared door were growing harder and harder to finalize.

The sixth time, however, was different.

After a particularly spirits-laced evening at the Colonel’s household (for an inconsequential dinner that Brandão hosted), the two men had come back rosy-cheeked and chuckling to their apartments from a mutual, too-much amount of brandy and wine. Both men (thankfully) saved shaving for the next morning when they were both conveniently off from work, jackets tossed over the back of Otávio’s couch as the Major shoved Luccino into his washroom, laughing and pointing with his finger of “you change, you change before you stain that nice suit of yours” and allowing the mechanic to relieve himself. Otávio, with a head swirling full of brandy and love, saw fit to free himself of the straps of his suspenders and fall backwards onto his bed, a lazy smile splayed under his lips as the minutes ticked by, the washroom door finally opening to reveal the other standing there quite proudly with his shirt off, with only his pants and socks on and suspenders dangling loosely from his lips. 

“Handsome,” was the only thing Otávio managed to chuckle from his view. “Wait no no no, try putting your suspenders on--”   
“What, like this?” Luccino snorted, Otávio cackling a “yes yes like that!” and laughing when the mechanic gave the straps a loud -snap!- against his bare chest, leaning against the doorframe and braced the suspenders with his thumbs.

“Here, I wanna see you do it too now,” Luccino chided. 

The Major sat up, still laughing and his face now flushing a deeper pink in color (without the liquor as a direct culprit) as a hand brushed the back of his head. “Oh I don’t know, how am I supposed to compete with  _ that, _ ” he crooned, motioning a hand to… well,  _ all  _ of Luccino. 

“What if I asked  _ very  _ nicely,” the other proposed, crossing his arms and pointing his chin upward. 

Otávio breathed a light laugh and a fake plea. “Nooo…”   
“Pleeease~” 

He gave a feigned sigh, opening the top half of his shirt with a playful “Fine~” like some sort of bleeding martyr, beginning to undo his buttons as he sat up. “ _ Only  _ because you asked so nicely.” 

“That’s not the  _ only  _ thing that’s nice from here.”    
That got the mechanic a shirt thrown at his face in playful teasing, the white blouse bundled up in jest as Otávio threw his undershirt to the side as Luccino took the blouse from his view. When in view again, the Major would be sauntering proudly towards him, thumbs also on the straps and a smirk under his mustache.

“Now if you’ll  _ excuse me,  _ Mr. Pricelli,” Otávio crooned, letting his suspenders go with a hard -snap!- that got a laugh from Luccino, “ _ I  _ need to use the washroom.” 

“Don’t fall in,” Luccino teased, allowing a hand to glide over the Major’s bare chest as he left the washroom’s doorframe to let the man relieve himself. Silly, silly- he was being so silly!  A stupid, silly grin wouldn’t remove itself from Otávio’s face even as he pissed, instead shaking his head at just how… gosh, what were the words, what words could there even  _ be _ ? Words escaped him; the only words that jumbled around in his liquor-laced brain now were descriptions of the man on the other side of that door- so beautiful, so loving, so immensely delightful, so…

When he would exit the washroom, he would snort upon seeing Luccino splayed out over his own bed, the cord that had his mother’s ring faithfully around his neck. 

“Comfy there?”   
“Mmmmmhm.”   
“Going to bed soon?”    
“Thinking about it.” 

Otávio plopped back-down onto the bed beside him, giving a great sigh as the room tilted to one side in his alcohol-hazed stupor. He heard Luccino cozy up beside him, a hand going to rest over his chest that sent shivers through his body and his heart beating a little faster. 

“You had some water, right?” Otávio asked, ever the conscious one about hangovers.   
“I downed some from the sink.”    
“Me too.” 

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Luccino crooned boastfully, flicking his thumb in the divot between Otávio’s pecs, “I’m quite clear-minded, thank you very much.”   
“Oh  _ sure _ you are, Mr. ‘I’ll show off my Italian to the Colonel-’”

“I didn’t sing the  _ whole  _ song-!” the other protested weakly.  
“You got  _ awfully  _ close, darling.” 

That got a kiss from the mechanic, Otávio savoring the other’s taste as Luccino’s arm draped over his hairy chest and Otávio’s hand went to cusp his cheek.

“Don’t you dare get up now,” Otávio asked quietly, his thumb still caressing the side of Luccino’s jaw.  
“Too comfy to do anything else.”

There was, however, a silence that hung after that promise. 

And it was Luccino that spoke first.

“Do you…  _ want _ me to stay tonight?” he asked quietly.

Even Otávio, in his bleary state, recognized the implications of this question. In his bed? Here? Sleeping, sharing the same room? He wasn’t some  _ child- _ they had already slept together on the couch together, in the car… Otávio’s thumb paused only for a moment, his lips parting in uncertainty at his own desires, before Luccino’s hand went to cover Otávio’s that cradled his own face, a grin beaming in reassurance and mutual desire. 

“Don’t worry. I’d be happy to.”

A smile cracked wide over Otávio’s face before anxiety crept up on him again.    
“We don’t have to do anything, of course,” the Major promised as he explained himself, “it just sounds- nice, and, I feel like that’s--”    
He was cut off by another kiss from Luccino.   
“Could you make sure all the lights are out?”  
“Of course.” 

And Luccino parted him with a loving thwack on the back as Otávio rose up and the suspenders dangled off his shoulders, Otávio feeling his face grow beet red as he meandered through their apartments and turned off the lights. With each candle’s wick blown out, lamp switch flicked, door closed (doubly ensuring locked), and taking one last big swig of water, he grabbed a glass for Luccino, his last stop being the door that separated their apartments. His free hand flexed in pause,  eyes darting in between it and the way to his room, his room where  _ Luccino  _ was… 

Tonight, he didn’t have to say goodbye. 

And Otávio found the courage to click the door shut and lock it tight, taking a deep breath before venturing back to his room. What he saw made him grin once again; Luccino, only in his pajama trousers, was in bed and leaning against the headboard, flipping through the newest book Otávio had been reading and had left on the nightstand. 

“How wonderfully domestic you look from here,” Otávio crooned behind him, setting the water glass on Luccino’s side of the bed. “Like what you’re reading?”   
“Yeah, this author is hilarious,” the other chided. “I can see why you’re enjoying it.” 

“I’d read some to you before bed if I hadn’t had that last glass of Sauvignon Blanc,” Otávio offered, sitting on the side of his bed and unbuttoning his pants. Each leg came off, then socks, down to his trousers…

A memory of his shoe being taken off by a very insistent Lidia suddenly lurched back.  
And he sat on the edge of the bed.   
And sat there.  
Why why  _ why  _ did he have to think about  _ that  _ now--

He heard Luccino stir as all the gravity in the world kept him from moving away and off the edge of the mattress, Otávio’s knuckles white as he gripped the bed’s side and sheets for all they were worth.

“Otávio?”

_ Get in bed, _ Otávio screamed at himself, get in bed, share it with him- this is what he  _ wanted,  _ wasn’t it? Or was he just being a coward again? 

“I--” 

He paused for a swallow, anxiety warring with the liquor in his brain as nerves tried to squeeze the life out of his chest while he heard sheets rustle behind him and Luccino’s weight shift closer. “J-just give me a moment, I--”

Luccino’s hands locked over Otávio’s chest from behind and kissed his cheek. 

“I’m here. It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry-” he sighed as he wrapped his lips in tight, “I’m sorry, I’ve gone and ruined it all, haven’t I-”     
“You didn’t ruin  _ anything, _ ” Luccino promised. As he spoke, Luccino’s palms flattened over where Otávio’s heart would be, another kiss finding his cheek, then lips, the rapid pace of his heart no doubt palpable in the other’s open hands… 

“Like you said. We don’t have to do  _ anything.  _ I’m just happy to be here.”

The metal of the ring around Luccino’s neck pressed into Otávio’s back.

“Me too,” Otávio promised, “me too.”

Luccino gave him one last spider squeeze from behind before taking a swig from the water on the nightstand and turning off the lamp at his side. Otávio, taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, shuffled in the bed and wrangled with the sheets, dipping himself in and oh God, God help him he was doing this… and for all his nerves, the beauty of seeing the man he loved most beside him filled him with more peace than any alcohol could give him, Luccino being the first to comfortably wrap an arm around him with Otávio soon following suit as their limbs intertwined. 

“I’m sorry if I hog all the sheets,” Otávio murmured.   
“I’m sorry if I snore.”  
“I think it’s lovely anyway.”   
“Now you’re just flattering me.”  
“All out of love.” 

Luccino scooched him closer to give his forehead a kiss, Otávio happy to be breathing the same air he was as he felt himself melt into the sheets. 

“Goodnight,” he hummed peacefully.   
“Goodnight, Luccino...”  
“I love you.”   
“I love you too.”  
“You more.”   
“No you~”  
“Stop it,” Otávio protested in a whisper, playfully nudging the snorting other with his foot, “go to sleep- we have a big day of doing nothing tomorrow.” 

And the Major would have the best sleep of his life outside of a car.


	2. The Sixth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First times can always be a little intimidating. So maybe you need some advice every now and then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE GETTIN' INTO THE NSFW TERRITORY HERE || @raijuthehyeju on twitter || thanks and god bless

The Major never dreamt. 

When he did, it was rarely anything pleasant. 

So, as he felt himself stirring from sleep and cracks of light entered his eyes, Otávio’s heart found itself skipping many beats when he realized a heavy  mechanic’s arm’s weight was draped over his shoulder, as a pleasant dream  _ should  _ cover someone in sleep’s sweet embrace. 

During the night, it seemed, Otávio had formed a perfect crescent against the other man, Luccino’s gentle snoring a sound that tickled his ear to hear so close again. Though now, in the complete comfort, safety, and bliss of his own bed, he allowed himself to relish the moments a little longer than what he normally allowed himself, wanting more of the heat from Luccino’s body and to dip further under the covers. He became greedy, and couldn’t help himself; the giddiness of the moment had Otávio sleepily pulling for Luccino’s hand and tugging it closer over his chest, as if the blanket wasn’t enough as a smile squirmed under his mustache. As sleep would lose the tightness of its grasp, Otávio  _ did  _ mentally confirm that his pants felt a little tighter than what-would-be, rolling his eyes and cursing his own greedy flesh that the tug to the hand proved. He was in Luccino’s bed, he confirmed over and over- in bed, safe, in love; completely alone, sharing a moment so beautiful he wondered how anyone could think it wrong… and Otávio dwelled there, his heartbeat slowing to a natural pace while his chest ached with the most unnatural, beloved pain.

No more than five minutes later, Otávio’s grin would  return as he heard the irregular shifting of sheets behind him, the snoring having died down and replaced with a great, tired sigh.The arm that now dangled over his arm pulled his whole body closer, Otávio’s skin smoldering with sparks as he felt Luccino bury his whole face into the crook of his shoulder with a kiss and long smell. 

“Good morning.”   
“It  _ is  _ a good morning, isn’t it,” Otávio hummed.   
Luccino’s hand began to lazily rub circles into his chest. “Did you sleep good?”  
“Better than in the car or on a couch.”  
“This is a good inevitability, then.”

Otávio couldn’t help it- he began to twist and shift in bed till he faced Luccino, eyes bleary with the remnants of exhaustion and now getting an early morning reminder of just how beautiful he was. 

And by the looks of it from the other man, how handsome  _ Otávio  _ could be, too.

“Hey.”   
“Hi.” 

The sweetness of silence was a treat of the highest, fortuitous circumstance.

Otávio brought his leg to press up against Luccino’s. “Is the other bed as comfy as this one?”   
“I think a little harder actually,” the mechanic mused, smirking as he turned to lay on his back and prop his chest against the headboard. “About as comfy as the Colonel’s, though- and that was a  _ nice  _ bed.” 

Otávio would go to instinctually rest against Luccino’s side, now  _ his  _ hand getting to roam the landscape of his midsection. “And I remember that bed you had at your mother’s.”

“I think it made me shorter.”  
“What? But you’re so tall already!”   
“I curled up so much because my feet would touch the endboard, so Mama would say that’s why I’m short!” Luccino mused. “We couldn’t really afford another one, Ernesto and Virgilio had theirs and weren’t about to trade, and I didn’t wanna make Fani give hers up…”

Not too far off from the meagerness of the orphanage, it sounded like.   


“Hey,” he started, “that dinner with her and Edmundo was really nice, by the way,” Otávio offered. “I’d like to host them whenever her Edmundo are willing to repay it, if that’s alright with you.”   
“My family is your family,” Luccino reminded him. “You’re practically in-laws already.”   
“Yeah,” a mumble puttered out from Otávio’s sleepy lips, “I wouldn’t mind ‘Otávio Pricelli…’”  
“What was that?”    
“Nothing~.”

Otávio was content lying in silence on top of the man’s chest, listening to the thudding of Luccino’s heartbeat and the rises and falls his strapping chest heaved with. It didn’t help either that, when Otávio turned his head to the side, the edge of his nose and tips of his mustache buried into Luccino’s bare skin, the rivets of warmth and muscle underneath making his toes curl ever so lightly. Otávio, too, would bite his bottom lip at the sensation of Luccino tugging on his chest hair as he gripped him in loving, sleepy possessiveness, his hand gliding over as a sentry would make its rounds.

As the Major’s sleep-crusted eyes fluttered open, he would chuckle (and begin to blush) at a small, yet sizeable lump in the sheets that covered Luccino’s waist. 

“What?” the Italian murmured.  
“You feeling comfortable there?” Otávio asked with a smirk.  
“Huh?”    
“Either you’re playing dumb you or should open your eyes.” 

Otávio would chuckle as he heard a groan of acceptance and laugh from Luccino, the mechanic’s hand roved from his chest to caress and pet the back of his head as he followed Otávio’s line of sight towards his raised groin (shrouded by his own pajama bottoms and thin layers of sheet).

“I uh… yeah. Guess I am comfy.” 

_ Be a little brave, Otávio _ .

As his smile evened out, the Major’s lips wrapped in on themselves and his hand went to lie at the rim of Luccino’s pajamas and abs, tracing small circles into the skin as a lump formed in his throat.

His fingers danced at the fabric’s edge. 

“May I?” 

Luccino gave a quiet “mhm” as Otávio guessed he’d closed his eyes again. Carefully and meticulously, he undid each of the three buttons with one hand, fingertips gingerly scooting the pants open and sheets down past the edge of his hips. He was as gentle as possible in his actions, calculated and careful, yet pushed on by a hunger he’d not allowed himself to feel in years (much less  _ ever  _ felt this comfortable about indulging in with another). And finally, when the fabric was completely open, his hand escorted Luccino’s well-aroused shaft to stand tall, Otávio dumbstruck with both admiration and desire that he was actually here, lying on the love of his life’s firm abdominals, permitted to fiddle with the love of his life’s cock.

God, he knew and was  _ well _ familiar with the fact that Luccino was well endowed, but to see him  _ this  _ aroused  _ this  _ early in the morning? It stuck straight up like a damned flag pole, Otávio’s throat going dry at the sight of Luccino’s legs under the sheets squirming ever the slightest as his fingertips skirted around the back of his shaft and teased the skin near a pulsed vein. His head, still on Luccino’s midsection, heard his heartbeat grow louder and faster as the seconds ebbed on, his thumb now brushing at its front as Otávio felt the grip on his hair go a little tighter. 

And as he gave a little squeeze to its mid and its tip, that was when Otávio heard the most beautiful, most horny little moan he’d ever heard in his life come from Luccino’s mouth.

Otávio’s eyes went wide and he simply  _ had  _ to look at the other’s face at that sound, and what he saw was that Luccino had been  _ desperately  _ trying to hold that back for a while now. The mechanic’s face was flushed already and he now permitted himself to breathe through his mouth, Otávio’s entire chest clenching as Luccino’s eyes locked with his. In that heart-rattling clench, the Major realized that yes, indeed, he wanted Luccino to do it  _ again,  _ that he wanted to hear it a hundred more times as he gave another little squeeze, Luccino’s face squirming in pleasure as his head leaned back and his lips parted to sigh another moan. Otávio bit his lip again at the feeling of Luccino’s grip on his head growing tighter and tighter, his scalp scrunched now by the man’s strong hands as a grin crooked the edge of Luccino’s quietly panting mouth.

“You’re-”  
“What-” Otávio breathed, trying to wet his throat of relief that would not come.   
“Y-you’re,” Luccino swallowed, “gonna really make me lose it, y’know-”

He’d already had the pleasure of seeing Luccino fending off others in beloved possessiveness. He’d already tasted how deep his kisses could go- on his lips, at least.  
He’d already felt how hard he could make his heart thump against his chest, how he could set the man ablaze with simply a smile and a hug, and how he could already make him lose it even a little.   
So maybe he  _ wanted _ to see him really lose it.   


“Maybe I  _ want  _ to see you really lose it,” Otávio murmured.

A glint seemed to flash in Luccino’s eyes as he pondered the words in a newfound tide of arousal, vision wide and unblinking as he stared dead into Otávio’s gaze. Finally, his lips wrapped in and his chest heaved one more massive time, and in an instant, Luccino’s hands were suddenly at the side of his head and Luccino’s rod had slipped out of his grasp, Otávio now pinned and on his back and oh God,  _ God save him _ , he was right underneath Luccino with the sides of his face being held for all that it was worth. 

Luccino’s breath now hung over his face like a fog over a lake’s morning vista, Otávio’s jaw shuddering as he felt the other man’s shaft press firmly into his own pajama’d crotch. Oh, he liked this, he  _ really  _ liked this- his guts twisting and wrenching at being held under Luccino, that strong frame and brow staring down at him, his rod poking deliberately at Otávio’s own firming cock. 

Yet as hard as they both were, as thick as each other’s sighs wafted over each others’ cheeks, the morning was still so early and the day still so young, and this newfound closeness all the more enthralling as Luccino’s thumbs stroked the sides of Otávio’s temples... 

It hit them that good God, this was a lot. A lot of potential, a lot of possibility, and a lot of power. In that “a lot,” the two realized that, in each others’ proximity, was the man that loved the other with all his heart, and they both were ridiculously, incredibly turned on.   


“Hey.”  
“Hey.”

And in that stupid, obvious-by-now realization, they both snorted as Luccino’s head dipped down in a doofy, boyish smile, Otávio devolving into a chuckling fit as his mechanic fell on top of him in overwhelmed laughter. 

“What?” the Major managed through his smile.

“I have to pee,” Luccino admitted.

“Oh my God-- go and get back here, then!” Otávio huffed, squirming playfully as Luccino’s hands found their grip  on his jaw and pulled his mushy face in for a close, stolen kiss to the cheek, Luccino immediately afterwards kicking off the sheets and rolling to sit and rise from the edge of the bed.

“Ohhh, now I ruined  _ that _ , didn’t I,” Luccino sighed wistfully as he meandered to the washroom.  
“ _ I  _ was the one who got you all excited, it should be  _ me  _ who’s apologizing,” Otávio crooned, allowing his fingers to dance with the sheets where Luccino had been laying.   
“From this view? I won’t have you apologizing for  _ anything _ ,” Luccino mused back. His grin was devious as his gaze looked down to where Otávio still had that pressure against his pajamas, not much unlike what  _ he _ fiddled with earlier on Luccino’s end.  
“You-- go already, my God!” 

While the other man relieved himself, Otávio closed his eyes and basked in the quiet of the still-early morning (and confirmed that yes, his pajama pants were much tighter than even before). The white noise of the complex’s creaks and groans, gentle rustling of sheets below his fingers and body, even Luccino pissing from another room- it was small pleasures that painted a calm grin on his face, moreso when he’d hear the bathroom door open and heavy steps meander their way back to the bed. As the mattress would tremble from Luccino flopping back down into it and inching closer to him, Otávio would sneak an arm around the back of his head and down his shoulders, not much unlike the position Luccino held him in earlier, a head on his stomach and a sigh echoing content. 

“Come on, let’s get onto the  _ important  _ things for now,” Otávio hummed, “what’s on our to-do list for today.”  
“A to-do list for our day off?” Luccino asked.  
“A regiment is the healthiest thing for domesticity, isn’t it?”  
“Well when you put it that way, ‘yes sir,’” Luccino said in a playful tone as his eyes batted from the sheets to his gaze.. “Tell me, Major- what’s there to do today.”

It was  _ very  _ clear Otávio hadn’t expected Luccino to say that ‘yes sir’ and military title so slyly and with such a devious little smirk- especially so soon after playing with the other’s dick. His face short-circuited and Otávio regained his mental footing, stumbling to remember what, exactly, was on this list of his. Luccino noticed this pause, the side of his mouth curling upward and those dimples returned on his cheeks as he slid back down onto the bed, but stomach-down and looking up to Otávio.

“W-well, ah… first thing’s first- groceries. I can do that.”  
“Mhm.”

“You wanted to take a look at your washroom’s light bulb?”   
Luccino’s hand began to also trace little patterns into Otávio’s abs. “I can do that while you’re out, yeah.” 

“Do you need anything from your garage I could get on my way back?” 

“No, I should be ok h-- actually, now that I think about it- could you grab my soldering iron? It’d be on the back-left counter near my tires sign.”   
“Of course,” Otávio promised. His eyes, though, were quite fixed on Luccino’s hands, which he noticed were tracing circles farther and farther down his hips, near his groin, and now at the top of his pajama pants, biting his lip at the sensation of the man’s strong hands being that close to his cock that was growing tighter against the fabric by the minute. 

Luccino’s fingers flicked playfully at the buttons.   
Otávio swallowed to a dry throat.   
So _this_ is what it felt like.

“May I?” Luccino asked quietly. 

His head felt as if it nodded on its own. “Please,” Otávio told him, “h-help yourself.” 

Luccino’s hand (almost expectedly), was a little rougher than his own fondling from earlier, if not for his own natural strength escorting his actions. One by one, his own pajama buttons were undone, Otávio unable to hold back a sigh as the compacted sensation was relieved even by a fraction. Luccino’s stare, unable to break with Otávio’s eyes, was complimented now by a growing smile as his hand snuck below the pants and found his rod. 

That’s when things would start to blur. 

Relieving himself in the barracks washroom before anyone was awake to see? Easily enough done- just had to get the timing right. Ignoring those gut-wrenching desires after a particularly hot summer’s day of squad workouts? He’d find himself staring off into space for solid chunks of time, maybe run a hand down his face and try not to  think about it, but doable. Ignoring every single urge in an all-boys orphanage and immediately jumping into military life? Painful at times, but any alternative was hardly an option. 

Here, however, with only Luccino, the bed they laid on, and the silence of morning’s first light, there was no alternative. There was only nature: true, honest nature, and a nature he didn’t have to deny any longer for safety’s sake. 

So when Otávio’s shaft was escorted out of his pants by Luccino’s careful grasp, hard and at the ready to fulfill his “help yourself” dictation, he felt his heart flutter and his legs squirm under the sheets.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Luccino suddenly admitted, laughing as his thumb gingerly brushed the smooth skin.    
“Me neither,” Otávio chuckled as his hands fiddled with the sheets at his side, “me neither, but it…”     
“Uh-huh?” 

“It… feels good,” he told Luccino with a breathy laugh, “it feels good.” He needed more. “Keep doing it.”    
Something shifted in Luccino’s face. His eyes seemed to grow… wider, determined but unsure of purpose, watching him with that expert mechanic’s eye for detail that made him so good at his trade. At Otávio’s words, he watched Luccino sit up a little more and towards him, his hand massaging upwards from the tender base of where his scrotum and rod met. Oh, Otávio had done this before on his own time and for his own pathetic relief, but someone  _ else  _ doing it? Someone’s foreign, unpredictable hand coaxing his arousal further and farther up, harder and harder in strong, loving hands? Luccino’s mouth grew now into an expectant, hungry grin as the Major’s cock lengthened and hardened, Otávio feeling his chest heave heavier as the other man continued his rhythm and Otávio kicked off his pants. 

“Guess what,” Luccino told him quietly as he neared his face.    
“What-”   
“I like doing this.” 

Luccino’s thumb pressed down, hard, on the tip of Otávio’s length.

And he made the most pathetic, horny moan of a noise he’d ever heard himself make.

He suddenly felt a million times smaller after that left his mouth; pressed up against the headboard, a hand went to rake over his mustache and mouth, eyes wide at the bodily confession and arousal that was washing over him as a high tide would a pool. His eyebrows creased upwards and eyes screwed shut, feeling Luccino’s irregular beats try and find a rhythm, learning both what he  _ and  _ Otávio seemed to like.

That was when he heard the mechanic give a frustrated huff.

“I need--”   
“What?”  
“Hold on, I--” 

Luccino, eyes roving about the bed and looking for  _ something  _ that Otávio could only guess what was, pouted when he couldn’t find it, impressively still pumping his shaft as he puzzled over his silent problem. He noticed, however, when Luccino’s expression brightened in a realization, noticing how he seemed to be rolling something in his mouth. 

“What are you--”    
Luccino kissed him suddenly, unable to help himself from melting into his lips’ sweet embrace. His kiss seemed to have a bit more… spit to it than normal? Some sort of restraint, a roving tongue and sucked in cheeks, and when Luccino broke from their kiss, he released Otávio’s firmed member, the Major’s brain begging for that hand to return. He watched Luccino kiss his own hand, saw his cheeks fluctuate and hold for a little longer than normal on the open palm… and make its way back down to his groin, Otávio realizing what he just did by the fingertips on his cock now given a new slickness, eventually the hand constricting around his rod again.

“Did you jus-- ohhhhh,” was all he could muster, eyes rolling back and fluttering as Luccino resumed at the same speed but with a  _ far  _ more noticeable glide over his delicate skin. “Oh-ho you-- that’s smart--”    
“I’m not getting up to go to the washroom to look for stuff right now,” Luccino told him in a quiet, breathy voice. “I’m not getting up for anything-”

“Mechanic’s knack for improv, I see-”   
“What’s that they say?” Luccino, on another powerful pump with a press of a thumb into his tip. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Otávio’s mind  was growing more and more lost, his legs now scooted upwards and bracing himself for both support and general, passionate writhing. 

“I’m-” he started with a stammer, but soon felt the thought slip out of his grasp, just as all thoughts were now- for there WAS nothing else, nothing else but pleasure, “L-Luccino--”   
The man’s voice was low and (Otávio would swear) hungry. “You like that?”   
“Mhm--”   
“How good does it feel?”   
Still Luccino went faster. “Aha, ha, L-Luccino--!”   
“Tell me--” 

All he could manage was nods and even more pathetic, passionate moans, pitifully biting the back of his palm to keep himself even a fraction quiet. His forehead leaned against Otávio’s now, beads of sweat mixing and mingling as their shared breaths danced and panted as a buildup was building in Otávio’s groin. 

“Luccino, I’m gonna-- ha, haa! Oh my god--” 

“Come on--”    
Small spurts heralded the first of it all, back spasming as his forehead pushed harder against Luccino’s brow. Otávio needed to do that more for Luccino at Luccino’s mercy as it dripped out of his tip- even that inkling of relieved pressure was the sweetest pleasure he’d ever known, eyes widening and now both of his hands going to grasp desperately for Luccino’s shoulders.That touch activated Luccino even further, heads tilting from simple forehead meldings to deep kisses, all the while Luccino’s strength around his rock-hard cock adding to the wave that was rising higher, higher-- 

“Come on!”

“Harder,” Otávio had to beg, “harder, please--!” 

And Luccino did so, his strong hands gripping, massaging, coaxing- all manner of words as the Major’s head swam in euphoria. His mouth hung open and his eyes couldn’t roll back any more, his cheeks flushing a somehow brighter red as he felt a bleariness prickle at his eyes. But god, he couldn’t help it, it felt so  _ good,  _ they were both learning, Otávio had never  _ felt  _ this good before and he could turn Luccino on like that, how Luccino could turn  _ him  _ on! Every laugh, touch, breath, kiss, lost in the up and down, up and down motions of Luccino’s hand ebbing his shaft on further, the pressure so immense and suddenly it was  _ here  _ and--!

An inaudible quaking of his jaw heralded it as his release came not a second later, a hard groan leaving his chest as his eyes screwed shut in thankful gratitude. 

That was when he heard the snort of a held-in laugh.

“Wh--”   
Otávio was still nowhere near down from the high of climaxing, but his eyes fluttered opened amidst his panting and what he saw made his stare widen at the idiot across from him, trying his damndest not to laugh.

“Oh my god.”    


There was a very clear path of cum that began in speckles at the middle of Luccino’s chest, then up the throat, a large, near-droplet collection under the chin, and a solid streak up one side of his face that teetered on the edge of his lips. 

“Oh my god oh my god I’m so sorry Luccino, I didn’t mean to-- my god, it…” 

Luccino’s shoulders began to shake with the beginnings of laughter.

“It… really got everywhere, didn’t it…”

“Oh, you think!?” the mechanic laughed openly now, a leg draping over Otávio’s other side and leaning against his headboard support. “Not only good with ‘shooting’ in the barracks, huh--!”   
Otávio buckled in laughter now at this, relishing in having the feeling of Luccino’s whole weight sitting on top of him as he raked his hands up his neck and to the sides of Luccino’s cum-spattered face. “Ohhhhh my god stop it-!”

“Kiss it off me~”  
“Nooo!”  
“You know you wanna~”

And Otávio found himself very much forgetting whatever it was that was on the to-do list, saving it for future Luccino and future Otávio to tend to. For now, he’d find himself lost in kiss after kiss, flesh touching flesh as his legs locked around Luccino’s waist as he found himself going more and more under both his mechanic and the light of the still-early morning.

After all, it was their day off - what was another hour in bed. 

 

* * *

 

“Luccino?”   
“Mmm.”  
“What was your first crush like?” 

Otávio would discover, once he looked at the alarm clock at the side of their bed, that sex made time go by surprisingly fast. 

Both were a little sore and a little tired already from their early morning escapades, pajamas scattered about the floor and bed as they basked in the crooks of each other’s shoulders. Luccino, for as delightful as his handiwork could be, was a little rough in those initial tugs and pulls, the two deciding that “stop” and “good” were their safe words with the Major’s legs held up over the mechanic’s shoulders. Otávio, for as much as his mouth watered to see just how tender the taste of Luccino’s shaft could be, had another wring of fear burst through him at the last second, and he settled to try and replicate Luccino’s own handjob (though it seemed as if Luccino liked it all the same for their mutual first times). The morning light poured in through what it could ebb through of their thick, concealing curtains, content as thumbs skirted over the back of each others’ palms and watching nothing in particular on the ceiling’s blank canvas. 

It was enough for now. 

The rest of the day was theirs to do with as they pleased, after all.

“I think you already know who mine was.”   
“I mean Mário, of course,” Otávio teased, “but what was it like?” 

“It feels so odd to talk about now with you here,” Luccino admitted through a bashful smile. “But I guess… I mean- I’d always known how to compliment girls. They were pretty, looked nice, but they never really… got my  _ heart  _ racing, you know? I never really felt  _ not _ … shy around them. There were a  _ couple  _ times as a kid that, now that I think about it,  _ maybe  _ I looked a little too long at the suits in the shop windows, maybe the workers that’d come home with Papa, all uh- sweaty with their shirts off, but I never really paid much thought to it and... I dunno. Mariana is my closest friend, and she knew that- and when she presented as masculine,  _ as  _ Mário, she…” 

Luccino sighed. “I think she put it best. Mário gave me courage to lean into what was already there. Brought it out like someone out of a cave seeing sunlight for the first time. Something that I just- never had the chance to show off, or even imagined to delve into.”    
“And now  _ I  _ get to have all that.”    
“You do,” Luccino crooned, Otávio beaming as the man nudged him playfully. “But he was just so fun! You saw it when you’d come to the shop- kind of hyper, understanding, quirky, sensitive, kind of…”

“He was cute.”   
“Did  _ you  _ have a crush on Mário too-- ohhh so that’s why you accused us of a triangle, isn’t it--”   
“I’m not telling!”  
“Come ooooon, jealous on  _ top  _ of that?-”    
“Okay okay fine!” Otávio found himself admitting, “I guess by proxy? It was… I wanted to see  _ you  _ more, so I guess the ‘attraction’ fell into crossed streams-”   
“No no no, that makes sense. …And he  _ was  _ cute.”    
“And  _ that  _ was when I could tell you had a thing for facial hair.”   
“Do I?”   


Otávio felt his face curl into a knowing grin as he looked up to Luccino.

“...Yeah, yeah, alright- can’t help it if you all look good with it,” Luccino mumbled. “And that it  _ feels  _ nice kissing, too.”  
The Major planted a little peck into his shoulder. “Compliment taken.”    


“And you?” Luccino asked now. “What was your first crush like?” 

He knew that was coming. Otávio gave a quiet sigh through his nose, eyes wandering across the ceiling as he traveled back down his own memories. Negating the pleasant, the  _ un _ pleasant, traveling his own walk of life through the orphanage, enlistment in the army, move to the Valley from Rio and everything in between… 

“I had little… fancies here and there, you know,” Otávio admitted. “Think I first really had feelings,  _ inklings  _ when I was what- 10? 11? Like you- little glances here and there, though I didn’t have  _ much  _ of a view of women living at the orphanage I did... I knew for  _ certain  _ when I was 14, and a lad had to fetch something from the washroom when I was drying off. Naked as a buck, walked in there to grab his shirt he’d left, then walked back out like nothing happened. Even at 15 he was built like a brick house- strong, just washed off, his chest gleaming and strong, and I remember just…  _ standing  _ there, slack jawed and unable to take my eyes off the door, it--” he snorted, “felt myself go a little hard, and that was it. Kept to myself for a  _ week  _ after that. Nuns tried to ask me why the hell I was being so quiet, but I was just trying to ‘process’ it all, you understand. Made up some excuse, it was the ‘anniversary of my parents’ death’ and I was sad, etcetera… my  _ first  _ crush, though, was from a troop who was stationed near our grounds for a couple weeks when I was 15. They were expecting a rendezvous with another battalion heading to Rio proper since some of the roads were flooded up ahead, so they made camp less than a kilometer from us. Nuns brought them  food, some of us went on field trips to see them… and would you know it- that’s where I saw fencing for the first time.”    
Luccino was lost in Otávio’s storytelling capabilities, absently petting the other man’s hair as he listened. “Really!”

“Yes! We came upon their camp and there they were, two of them in the center of a ring of men, their foils crashing against one another on that September morning as they all cheered and spurred them on. It looked so… fun, so enthralling- like they were old swordsmen or something! One of them saw my stares and offered to let me hold the foil. Nice man- tall, barrel chested, had a scar over his lip and his hair tied back. Threw me right in the center and hollered ‘show us what you’re made of’ and it just…” Otávio couldn’t help but shrug and laugh, “all started from there. The soldiers were all delightfully impressed- he cheered me on, corrected my posture, and--” 

“Seeing them all worked up and sweating and helping your form?”   
“Mhmmmm, you can imagine how that was for my mind,” Otávio admitted.  
“What was his name?”  
“Huh?”   
“The one who trained you,” Luccino asked gently. “Do you remember his name?”    
Otávio would later try and think of a reason for such a long pause. 

“...Goncalo,” Otávio admitted. “He was Lieutenant Goncalo. Before they left, I- asked them how I would go about joining the army. He told me where, when I could, how I would, and… left. I never saw him again after that.” 

A pause hung above them just as the ceiling did in the morning light.

“Do you think he had our same fancies?”    
Otávio pondered this for a moment. 

“I don’t know,” Otávio told him. “And even if he did, I don’t know if I would've allowed myself to accept that he did at that age.”    
“And now?”    
“I might,” he mused. “After all, what was it Miss Helena said?”   
“‘There’s strength in numbers,’ isn’t there,” Luccino crooned.    
“Well. I’m quite happy with the number ‘two’ for right now.” 

Silence marinated a gentle exchange of chuckles between them. 

“...We should probably get up soon and tend to that ‘list’ of yours, Tá Tá.”  
“Don’t make me regret making it in the first place.”

 

* * *

 

The seventh time they slept together, he sought advice.

The previous night? The Major got the best sleep he’d ever had in his life- dreams were nowhere to be found, he’d woken fully rested without any threat of a hangover, and during the day he found himself curling his lips in a cheeky grin remembering at how well he fit against Luccino’s embrace. His thoughts would occasionally drift back to their morning in throughout the day- he found himself licking his lips checking their postal boxes, staring off into space while waiting at a street corner... 

Yet despite the fluttering in his chest and the wondrous moments they had both spent simply basking in one another’s presence, one thing still haunted Otávio despite all the bliss.

Memories. Memories, ignorance, and fear from a certain night that kept him from what he wanted, and what he wanted to give Luccino in return.

But what was the best way to go about… approaching those topics? How would those “topics” coincide with what he (and whom he had to assume Luccino) wanted?

He had ideas. He’d gone through the fire and flames of an identity crisis and come out of it firm in himself in what he wanted, and turned “urges” into love and preferences- this morning, if anything, proved it. But now, on the other side, was a world so wide and vast with possibility, he at  _ least  _ needed a push in the right direction to act on that identity. Not only for himself, but Luccino, who he wanted to see equally fulfilled, satisfied, and grow alongside him. 

But who could he talk to?

Otávio began to take mental inventory of everyone who was aware of their relationship.

Fani and Edmundo? Just getting to know them. Last week’s dinner together at Luccino’s old home was lovely, though.  
Brandão? No. Not the Colonel.  
Ema? No.  
Ernesto? God no, he’d never hear the end of it.  
Mariana? As much as he loved and trusted her, she was practically family to him, and the Colonel was too close to home to feel comfortable discussing “matters” with her that involved his superior officer.  
Randolfo? He hadn’t even decided how to tell the Captain about him and Luccino yet. Still needed to decide  _ if  _ he was going to, what with Lídia involved.  
Nicolet-- oh my god what was he even  _ thinking?!  _

That left only two, more recent additions onto the list: his landlords. The thought made his collar a little tight as he decided on the process of how, exactly, to approach at least  _ one  _ of them and ask for their council. Helena, for as wise as she seemed, still intimidated the Major- maybe it was her height, her ability to poke through  _ both  _ his and Luccino’s true natures before their mutual “discoveries”... no, maybe not Helena. Not right now, at least- though he  _ did  _ still have to take her up on that offer for a lunch sometime. 

And that was what brought him to Miss Cecília Azevedo’s bakery before his grocery run that morning. 

The bell chimed pleasantly upon his entrance, Otávio pleased to hold the door open for a gaggle of women that was clearing out the shop the same time he was entering. Cecília was polishing cups and their respective plates from a fresh wash with a hot rag, her eye turning to the door as the bell run, and Otávio was relieved to see a wide smile spreading on her face.

“Major, what a pleasant surprise!” Cecília crooned.   
“Good morning, Miss Cecília,” Otávio bode pleasantly. “Business is well today?” 

She feigned a fake sigh. “You just missed my Saturday morning rush- it doesn’t help when a  _ certain someone  _ who owns a  _ certain teashop  _ underestimated an order she needed… but what brings you in today though, hmm? Something to drink? Picking up a sweet little something forrrr-” 

“A-a-aactually now that you mention it, a coffee does sound good,” Otávio interrupted nervously with a laugh, straightening his posture as a flush skirted onto his cheeks at the baker’s knowing grin. “May I have an average sized drip to fit my flask, and…”   
“And?”   
“And I ah,” he cleared his throat, “was wondering if you had time to... talk. About- something I’ve been pondering on that I feel you might understand. Specifically. ...Or help with.”

She said nothing in return- her face simply expected him to keep going. 

Otávio gave another sigh. “I-it’s not bad or anything! I just thought that either you or Miss Helena might be able to-” 

Cecília held up a finger to pause him. “Luiz!” She called over her shoulder, “watch the counter for a bit- I’m going to the office!”

Otávio would hear a distant “OKAY” from the back of house’s depths as she bid him to round the counter and follow her through a door that was most likely her office. It was a small, cramped thing with invoice receipts stacked haphazardly  in orderly chaos, some shelves dusted with remnants of flour fingerprints, and all sorts of ingredients stashed in a small dry storage of shelving. Quite the contrast from Helena’s orderly, almost dramatic office in Valley’s Oasis, Cecília waved a hand to him with a warm and chuckling “lock the door behind you dear, lock the door,” Otávio already feeling a lot better about this decision and trying desperately to fight off those last-minute nerves. 

“Thank you,” he admitted, “I hope I didn’t interrupt any of your work-”

“Don’t even worry about it, dear- after this morning’s hellfire I’m happy to be sitting for a blessed minute or two,” she assured, plopping the her chair and wiping her brow (that left a faint dust mark of flour on her face). “So, tell me! What can I do better-than-Helena for you.” 

“Well I-” he admittedly snorted at the slight poke to the other woman as he took a seat, “I ah, it’s about... Luccino, Miss Cecília.”   
“Somehow I figured that,” she assured, “but what exactly, praytell? It doesn’t sound anything serious or ill-mattered…”    
“No, no- quite the opposite,” he assured. “I… gosh, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start from the beginning, why don’t you.”

He sighed with his nose and ran a hand down his reddening face. “Alright, well- I… our apartments have allowed us to be closer. For lessons, being neighbors, being… everything, really. Every moment has been a delight. And I find myself wanting to… to do  _ more,  _ Miss Azevedo,” he parsed out finally, “ and I think… no no no, I hope he doesn’t mind me saying this, but I think he does too. ...but  _ I _ don’t know how. I didn’t have parents, I never had  _ those  _ kinds of discussions or anyone to tell me things, other than army talk which even I knew was crass and rude and failed spectacularly before if my ‘engagement’ with Lídia is anything to go off, and I find myself very… ignorant! Yes, ignorant’s a good word. Feels great,” he found himself spatting as a reflection. “I just… want to be closer. But I don’t know how to go about it. Yet I might? But I don’t know if it’s right, you see- I don’t know who else to ask about this. You and Miss Oleivera are the… closest things Luccino and I know of people like ourselves in the Valley, and it’s…”

Otávio paused when he noticed Cecília hadn’t said anything for a while, bringing his sheepish gaze up from his own fiddling hands to look at her. A floodgate washed over him, however, when he noticed her eyes were full of… what was it? Nostalgia? Melancholy? A warm, welcoming grin, one that reminded him so much of Mariana and her own sympathy- an expression that seemed to take her back years through memories of love and so much more.

“If Lena were here, she’d probably have something very poetic to say to you, or some grandiose charge to you and Luccino,” Cecília chuckled quietly as she shook her head. “My god, it… no. You know what? No. If I may, I’ll tell you a story.” 

The Major couldn’t help but smile at her sincerity. “I came to you, didn’t I? Please, Miss Cecília, say what you like.”

“Oh, she’d be red as a rose if she knew I was talking about this,” Cecília mused to herself. “It was nearly… we’ve been together eleven years, and that was in-- yes, a little over ten years ago now. We’d already been quite- ‘familiar’ with each other, it’s fair to say; couldn’t pry our gazes from each other, I was a sappy ninny and kept making these special croissants for her whenever she’d come to pour over paperwork with a coffee… there were a few ‘moments’ we had. Moments where we shared a bit more about ourselves than we were expecting to say, little touches and flirts that neither of us really knew how to reciprocate or if it was even proper to  _ do  _ so… had a few walk-ins. Those were... ‘fun,’ though I’m certain you already know what that’s like.” 

“Annoying, to say the least,” Otávio muttered as he shifted in his seat.  
“Mmm.”

Otávio noticed when she paused… but then looked to him with a smile.

“One week, there was an, ah, landlord and property manager’s gala in São Paulo she was invited to. And since I was going to be signed onto co-ownership of the Oasis what with my shop, she invited me to come along with her. She wanted the support I suspect, too, but I was more than happy to oblige. The party itself was fine- lots of formalities, lots of people who reminded me of family who loved to boast of their own wealth- folks just would  _ not  _ leave me alone about my estate back in Rio. Oh, ‘the Azevedos’ this, ‘how is your family’ that, ‘they must miss their daughter terribly,’ one gentlemen saying I was ‘wasting it all settling in the Valley with a building like that’... I was younger,  Major, and it all- hurt, after a while. Especially after a few glasses of prosecco.  _ Especially  _ after Helena had told me a thousand times when we were getting ready that I was ‘beautiful’ and ‘radiant’ and ‘perfect’ in her eyes before the gala began.” She paused to collect a somber expression. “I was offended from one guest in particular. Horribly. I could hear her shouts, ‘Lena simply  _ berating  _ the man two hallways down as I trotted off for how he’d said what he did to me. To this day, I- still don’t know what she said, because I was already storming down the hall back to my room that was, ah- next to hers. She followed me into the room, pushed me against the wall and told me I was worth so much more than that scum as I wept, and, ah…” 

She shook her head and wrapped her lips in on themselves.

“The rest was history. If I may be candid, Major, we simply… didn’t know what we were doing. Yet we did. But after all that time, that closeness- ripening and understanding each other and even having an  _ inkling  _ of what the other liked...we just. Kind of. Kept. Going. Exploring. And oh by God, did we develop preferences. Helena’s family of a father is long dead by this point, God rest his soul, and mine… well. That’s another conversation for another day, so we didn’t have much guidance either. Following impulse, urge, idea, cue from the other… You’re going to laugh, I will say that now. One of you will mess up or you’ll get frustrated or make mistakes. And that’s fine- as long as both of you are in consent and… happy, I suppose.” 

Otávio’s hands, in his lap, began to wring at each other as he listened to the woman’s story. Was it really that easy? That easy to just… follow along with what the other wanted? Kick fear to the curb as Mariana had told and encouraged him to do? 

It’s what they’d done this morning, after all. 

So where was the harm in continuing all that?

“And I suppose that’s… the difficulty,  _ and  _ the beauty about people like us, Major. You came to me because I’m like you, and I am comfortable talking to  _ you  _ about this because you understand. Others won’t understand. But we do. And there’s a- whole, untrodden world out there for people like us to discover. Together, with the people we love most in our lives.” 

“I don’t care what you said earlier- you and Miss Oleivera  _ certainly  _ have a way with words,” Otávio finally told her, nodding his head. “B-but tell me, Miss Cecília… how do I know what I feel is right? I’ve never… I mean I tried to flirt with Lídia, I tried to do what I saw other men do with women they courted, but it never felt right, it--”

“Are you with Lídia now?”  
“No-”   
“Do you know what makes Luccino happy?”  
He looked down to his lap to try and hide the grin wriggling under his mustache. “I have a few inklings.”   
“Is he made happy by those things?”

The hungry grin Luccino made at him as he tugged at his cock flashed in his mind, pathetic moans of his own making skirting the edge of that memory.  
“Yes, thankfully.”    


“Then keep pursuing that. We’re not exactly looked upon as the ‘default,’ for as lovely as our pleasures are, and we have to simply follow by cue and by talking. And who knows! Maybe he’s feeling the same… things, the same ‘ideas’ that you are.”  
“You think so?”   
“There’s only one way to find out,” she shrugged with a smile. “Permission, though. Mutual… hints. You have that right as any man and woman have in union to make each other happy in more ways that just one. The heart wants what the heart wants, and so does the flesh. And if you stuff that down out of fear, that frustration will be unbearable.” 

Otávio nodded again, firming his lips again as he gave a dry swallow. 

He thought of last night together in bed, their evenings now in the washroom, even back to that first night when Luccino was still living with his parents… he’d said it himself, hadn’t he?  _ Living against one’s own nature could be very “frustrating?”  _

He sighed. 

“Thank you,” he said gently with a meek smile. “I think I… feel a little better about this all now.”  
“Ohhh, I hope so, I tried,” Cecília admitted bashfully. “You both are comforts, Major, it’s been so lovely having you around-”  
“And I believe we can say the same for you. Our fencing practice still isn’t too loud, is it--”   
“Pfft, no- you both have to deal with the smell if I burn something in the morning, a little ‘studious’ sportsmanship even if I did hear it is fine by me,” she humored as she stood up from her desk. “It’s been a couple weeks anyway- if we had any noise complaints, we would’ve heard about it by now.”    
“Right, right. Thank you again, Miss Cecília.”

“And thank you, Major Otávio. Oh! Oh, gosh, well- before you go, I might as well tell you,” she snapped in recognition. “Don’t use olive oil unless you’re in the tub, though don’t use it often and only use a little- oil is horrid on pipes. Pick up some Vaseline from the drugstore- spit works in a pinch though. Do nothing on silk. Always -always!- piss beforehand. And ask Doctor Mariko if you need a new routine physician. She’s very-- let’s just say ‘trustworthy’ to ‘certain preferences.’”

His eyes went wide and his jaw hung open and he couldn’t stop staring at her and oh my god he could feel his face going so red--

She opened the door before him from her office with a dastardly little smile. “Let me get you that coffee before you head out, hmm? On me, I’ll send you off with some sonhos, too--”

And in a few minutes, he was standing outside with a flask of coffee and a small box of pastries under his arm, parting the bakery with a nervous “see you!”, straightening his shoulders in his casual suit and tie.

He had to remember to cross olive oil off his grocery list.


End file.
